


The Perfect Spoon

by DictionaryWrites



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Asexuality, M/M, Masturbation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-03
Updated: 2013-12-03
Packaged: 2018-01-03 09:05:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 622
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1068640
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DictionaryWrites/pseuds/DictionaryWrites
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Had a request for ace!Combeferre/Courfeyrac. Short, fluffy ficlet.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Perfect Spoon

Post-orgasm, Combeferre had discovered, Courfeyrac went completely boneless and languid, unwilling to move and unwilling to make much effort to move, or even talk much. Combeferre was used to recognizing this state in the other man, so when Courfeyrac stumbled sleepily from his shower, hair still damp but otherwise dry, and dropped forwards with his head in Combeferre’s lap, the medical student made no argument.

He pulled Courfeyrac closer onto the bed, letting the other man press his face against Combeferre’s stomach, pressing against the soft fabric of his sweater vest and inhaling deeply, his limbs sprawled out on the mattress. 

Combeferre stroked a hand through Courfeyrac’s hair, gently scratching at the scalp and drawing a low, contented purr of sound from the other’s mouth. Courfeyrac was an exceedingly tactile man, and Combeferre could reduce him to a liquefied mess with even the smallest of touches, and now he melted against Combeferre’s thighs.

"Did you bring yourself off?" He asked in a quiet voice, his tone measured but gentle, and Courfeyrac’s eyes opened. He looked up at Combeferre with slightly wide eyes, his lips parting as he took in a slow breath.

"Mmm."

"Tell me about it." Combeferre did not like sex. It was messy, uncomfortable, and he felt no real desire for it - he would occasionally take an orgasm for the sake of lessening his libido for a time, when an erection was persistent, and that was it. He didn’t like to involve himself in the fluids and the movement and so forth, where Courfeyrac loved all of it.

Whilst it was true Combeferre wanted no personal involvement, of course, seeing Courfeyrac comfortable, relaxed, all tension dissolved from his form, was good. And Courfeyrac liked to talk about sex, liked it when Combeferre asked him about it, and thought about Combeferre when he brought himself off - this interested Courfeyrac.

While it sparked nothing in his libido, it certainly did ignite something in Combeferre’s interest in Courfeyrac and making sure he was happy.

"Thought of you." Courfeyrac said simply, drowsily, and Combeferre continued to coax tangles from the other man’s hair, enjoying the sensation of the locks between his fingers even if they were still a little wet.

"Go on." Combeferre prompted, and Courfeyrac stretched, arching his back a little and letting out a little groan. 

"Fucked myself. Touched my cock."

"How many fingers?"

"Two."

"Unambitious." Combeferre commented dryly, and Courfeyrac wriggled and gave a little laugh,drawing a small smile from his partner. Combeferre might not have been interested in sex itself, but the act of teasing him was an indulgence Combeferre had no intention of drawing away from. 

He set his book aside and then pulled Courfeyrac closer, moving up the bed and bringing him more solidly into his lap in order to stroke over his back and his thighs, and Courfeyrac pressed closer, wrapping his limbs securely around the other man. “You are  _gorgeous_.” He purred against Combeferre’s neck, straddling his thighs and becoming an effective blanket. “Am I interrupting your reading?”

"It’s nothing exciting." Combeferre returned, his hands stroking up Courfeyrac’s body to play over his neck.

"Mmm, good. Nap?"

"We can nap." Combeferre allowed, playing over Courfeyrac shoulders with his nails and drawing a low moan from Courfeyrac. "Like this?"

"Spoon me." Courfeyrac demanded, and Combeferre laughed, leaving the bed only to turn off the light and remove his shirt before climbing back into bed with the other man, moulding his body against Courfeyrac’s back as he set his glasses aside behind him. "Ah,  _la parfait cuillère_.” Courfeyrac mumbled sleepily, and Combeferre snorted, wrapping his arms around the other man.

"You oddity."

"Mmm." Courfeyrac agreed, putting his hand over Combeferre’s in a lazy movement. "Love you too."


End file.
